Checkmate 

I do not wish to provoke you.  As you venture into my headspace, you ARE a willing participant.

Disclaimer: 40/60 IRT
The Queen is everyone’s favorite piece. Her every move can be tracked throughout history on social media. A player is sometimes curious. That was June. Effortlessly, Google details much for all the world to see. It is time consuming. I hate the game, but it does still fascinate me. There are many rules and too many pawns, yet intriguing the placement and rank of each. I confess my last game of chess I made the wrong move. Within minutes, regret set. I know never again chug two whiskey neats during the game. It had been almost a year since I played; my heart was in my throat. Still -no excuse. I crossed the line. The shiny pieces blinded me. I attacked instead of retreating. That evening was devastating. I took the summer off completely. Recently, I came across a chess game in progress. I stared, but no longer intrigued. It is too complicated. The pieces have lost their shine. The Queen accused me of taking one of her bishops out of turn. I did no such thing. I did not forcefully knock the bishop down. I simply touched his side with my Rook and uttered good match. It is obvious the White Bishop feels superior. One of her pawns apologize last week. That same pawn forewarned me to watch my fortress. A small brushfire set before the wind via a note. An address accompanied said note. I closed the gate and hung a white flag. Checkmate.

Image taken from Google.